


Bills, Bills, Bills

by braedens



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Daddy fic, Daddy!Derek Hale, Derek Hale is actually a stripper, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Prompt, also derek has a kid, and i might add an epilogue if i'm persuaded, and she is so precious okay, basically everyone has a kid in this, except for stiles, he actually has 23 kids, i'll probably update these tags, like literally this is just me wanting to write sterek fluff bc they areso cuteeee!!, like really, teacher!stiles, wink wink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 03:37:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5569423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braedens/pseuds/braedens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles finally pulls his eyes away from the first stripper to look at the second one, who has now climbed on top of their large ottoman with a pole connected to the ceiling, grasping onto it and slowly taking steps around it. And Stiles feels his breath come short and his heart stop, along with the rest of the fucking world. </p><p>Because Derek Hale has his hand on that pole and is staring straight at him.  </p><p>Or, where Derek Hale is a part-time stripper at night, and Stiles Stilinski is his daughter Heather's second grade teacher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bethgingles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethgingles/gifts).



> based on [this tumblr prompt](http://braedens.tumblr.com/post/136080883392/stephanieofrp-a-im-a-single-dad-but-i-also)
> 
> for [myimpaladreams](http://myimpaladreams.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, who is literally a ray of light and makes me smile and motivated/inspired me to write this and be productive. she deserves a million cute sterek fics okay. 
> 
> thank you to [jadorehale](http://jadorehale.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for taking the time to beta this and making it amazing like they do with everything. <3

“Mr. Stilinski, is it my turn to be the line leader?”

Stiles bent down to eye level with Heather, the dark-haired, wide-eyed little girl in his class. It’s safe to say he spends a lot of time on his knees for these kids.

Granted, they’re all around three-feet tall and will constantly look up at him and pout until he crouches to their level. He figures if he’s going to be their teacher, he’ll be the most relatable second grade teacher these kids have ever had.

“How about we go check, Heather,” he says enthusiastically. He watches Heather squeal as she runs over to the Velcro board, his heart warming at the sight of her. All of his kids are getting ready to go home, putting on their coats and backpacks.

Every day after school gets out, he walks his class to the front gates so they can greet their parents or get on their other means of transportation to go home. It’s usually the other teachers favorite parts of the day, watching their students go home, freeing them from servitude. But Stiles love his little munchkins. They’re at that stage of being equally as polite as they are curious and get excited about literally everything.

Heather gets to the board before he does, obviously, and she starts jumping excitedly.

“It says I’m first, Mr. Stilinski! My name is at the top! Look!” She points and stands on her toes.

“My goodness, you’re right, Heather! You are _first_!” Stiles chimes, hands on his hips. “You better get all your stuff ready to go so you can be the line leader."

And just like that she runs off with a giggle, joining her friends by the cubby holes.

Stiles loves his kids, he really does. Likes how Cynthia and Heather are best friends and won’t do anything if they can’t do it together. Or Daniel, who will constantly tell people that they can love whoever they want because that’s what both his dads tell him. Or even Scott and Allison’s son, Jacob, who, even though he’s adopted, is strangely the spitting image of Scott when they were younger, right down to the unsettling urge to be every single kid’s friend.

It’s a good class, and he likes to think he’s a good teacher.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he walks the kids outside and sees the very first parent waiting. Leaning against his black Camaro like he just came out of a Sports Illustrated cover shoot is none other than Derek Hale.

Stiles tries to watch his kids; _he does,_ making sure they go to their respective parents or nannies, and not some psycho-pedophilic man with a van somewhere. (To be fair, they attend a private school with a gated parking lot, so the chances are very slim). But it’s just so hard with Mr. Broody Face with Amazing Arms looking their way, his goddamn smile probably bright enough to light an entire football stadium. Stiles has to remind himself that it’s not actually aimed at him, but at his very own Heather Hale who runs from the line, backpack sloshing behind her as she barrels toward her father. Stiles watches Derek push himself off his car to crouch down and catch her as she leaps into his arms, squealing ‘Daddy!”. He twirls her around once, and even though it literally happens every day, it still makes Stiles feel warm.

Jacob stays by Stiles’ side, though. Stiles has offered to carpool him home after school now that Allison is pregnant for the first time, and Scott works later than when school lets out. When Stiles sees Heather dragging Derek by the hand over to the two of them, he can’t help but adjust his glasses and stand a little straighter as their eyes meet.  

“Daddy, can Jacob come over and play soon?” Heather asks once they’ve reached them. Derek looks down at her with a chuckle and then looks at Stiles.

“Good to see you again, Mr. Stilinski,” he says with a soft smile, and God, Stiles should not be this nervous.

“You too, Derek. It’s nice to see Jacob and Heather getting along. These two are becoming quite the popular kids in class lately.” It’s true. Stiles has never met such bright and energetic kids as these two in all his years of teaching.

Derek just beams at that. “Is that true, Heather? Are you popular?” he teases, ruffling his hand in her hair.

“She is! I see it all the time!” Jacob adds excitedly, a jump in his step.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Derek starts, focusing back on Stiles. “Is Jacob your kid? I always see him staying with you after school, and you two seem close.”

Stiles laughs, because he gets that a lot. He’s tried a lot to clear up that rumor in hopes that it wouldn’t tarnish Scott’s name, but his best friend didn’t seem to mind at all.

“He practically is. No, but Jacob here is my brother’s son. I’m just a glorified nanny until my brother’s wife has her baby.” He doesn’t mention that Scott isn’t actually his brother by blood, more like best friends since birth. But, then again, their parents married each other, so they’re kind of brothers.

Derek just nods in understanding, offering another dazzling smile, and Stiles just might die. “Well, if your brother is okay with it, I’d love for them to have a play date. Heather is always begging to hang out with her friends from school, and her birthday is coming up.”

God, Stiles shouldn’t be as turned on by the father factor as he is. It’s just that Derek is so… so paternal. He looks like he only has eyes for his little girl, and it’s the most heartwarming thing to someone who dedicates their life to teaching young children. Stiles meets a lot of pretentious, snobby parents at this private school, but Derek is just a genuinely good dad.

“Do you mind if I give you my number, and you can pass it on to your brother?”

Stiles blinks, once, twice, before his brain registers what Derek actually says and nods, scrambling for his phone.

 

After they say goodbye, Derek carrying Heather to the car on his shoulders, he feels Jacob tugging at his pants.

“Stiles, Daniel told me today that anyone can fall in love with each other, even two boys or two girls. Did you know that?”

Stiles just smiles softly, bending down and cupping his hand to whisper a little secret in his ear. “Did you know you can likebothboys _and_ girls, if you want?”

Jacob’s eyes grow wide, and Stiles laughs.

* * *

 

Two hours later, he finds himself sitting along Scott and Allison’s kitchen island. Allison is on his left and Scott is on his right, while Lydia Martin is on the other side of the counter cutting up an apple for Jacob.

“He wants Heather to hang out with Jacob?” Scott asks, looking at the text message in his hand that Stiles sent with Derek’s number.

“You should be glad he doesn’t care about gender brackets at this age. He’s an evolved man.” Stiles chimes.

Allison scoffs next to him. “Maybe we should let _you_ take Jacob on this playdate.”

Stiles _feels_ his ears turn pink, but that doesn’t stop the glare he throws her way.

“Stiles, I’d never think of you as having a crush on one of your students' parents.” Lydia teases, a smug grin on her face that Stiles would really like to wipe off.

“I do not have a crush on him, thank you very much. I just think he’s a great dad.”

“And has a great ass,” Scott chimes in, without even looking up from his phone.

“Dude!” Stiles yells, looking just as bewildered as Scott does. “That was confidential!”

Scott’s eyes move between Allison and Lydia, and then back to Stiles, who rolls his eyes.

“You’ve already told them. Great. Of course you did. You hold nothing sacred.”

But Scott flashes his Puppy Dog Eyes, and Stiles caves, because his best friend is an asshole.

“Just ask him out, gosh. You've fawned about him enough over the past few months. He has to know,” Allison offers, and suddenly the very real fear of Derek actually knowing about his subtle crush means that it’s actually very much _not_ subtle.

“Even if I did have a crush on him, _which I don’t_ ,” he starts, glaring at his friends. “I wouldn’t be able to act on it. He’s my student’s dad, and it’s strictly forbidden for a teacher to be involved with a student’s parent slash guardian.”

Lydia doesn’t buy into it, because she squints her eyes and says, “There’s no bylaw in the Prairie School constitution about teacher and parent relations.”

Stiles really wishes of all the careers Lydia could of chose, it wasn’t lawyer.

“Well, it’s a rule in the Stilinski’s Guide to Dating, okay? It’s on the first page in block red letters and probably has sirens go off when you open it.”

He can literally feel the collective roll of eyes from his friends, and he just really wants this conversation to be over.

Lydia must read his mind, like always. “Anyway, I want to talk to you guys about my wedding. More importantly, my bachelorette party. Scott. Stiles. I know you both are guys, so you can opt out, but I’d love for you two to still come. I know you guys aren’t that close to Richard, but you all are my best friends, and I’d love it if you celebrated my last day of freedom with me.”

“Well, as Maid of Honor, I can assure you two that it will involve a strip club. A male strip club,” Allison coos.

“I’m out,” Scott says defensively, his hands in the air. “Besides, I promised Richard I’d take him to the best places in town.”

Lydia turns to him. “What about you, Stiles? It would be great. You could hang with us. Watch hot guys take their clothes off. Your favorite.” She says nonchalantly, like Stiles just spends all his goddamn time at strip clubs, because _fuck you_ , he doesn’t.

But, Lydia is one of his closest friends, and she’s helped him countless times in getting his life together. He wants to do this for her.

“Count me in. I need to stop living in the mindset of an eight year-old, anyway.”

It’s worth it when he sees Lydia’s smile. Not the one she gives when she knows she’s won, but when she’s genuinely grateful, and it’s enough to get Stiles excited.

* * *

 The bachelorette party isn’t for another thirty days, and within that time, Stiles has to aggressively remind himself that Derek Hale is off limits. For all he knows, Derek has a significant other out there, who works as a CEO of some company in California, which makes sense how they can afford school for Heather.

Even if there is a possibility that Derek is a single father, who even knows if he’s gay? The stares and whispers of the other moms and female nannies would definitely dispute that theory. So, he keeps his distance, leaving it at soft smiles and silly banter, always addressing him as “Mr. Hale” to convince him that he isn’t anything but his daughter’s teacher. (Though, it also gave Stiles the opportunity to kink-shame himself, because for some reason, calling him ‘Mr. Hale’ is way worse than just saying Derek.)

A month goes by, thankfully, without Stiles even attempting to jump the man, and Stiles is proud to say it was pretty successful. Towards the end, he basically forgot that Derek was even the object of his desires. Though, he did notice at the same time, Derek stopped moving away from his car to come talk to him, instead just waiting for Heather to come, picking her up as always, and then helping her into the car before being on his way.

He refuses to think it’s a coincidence.

The night of Lydia’s bachelorette party has Stiles feeling giddy. It’s been a long time since he’s been to a strip club, maybe not since college when he discovered the magic that is gay bars.

He strolls in with Lydia and her friends, some from work, some they used to go to college with. Allison is near him, barely in her first trimester, so she isn’t showing enough to ruin her fun (that is, if having to stay sober the entire night while being in a club counts as fun). There is even some guys with them, other gay guys Lydia has befriended, and even Danny came along.

LA is usually notorious for their night scene, so the strip they find themselves on is covered in expensive cars and wealthy looking people. Stiles should have known that with Lydia’s wealth and tight connections, she would spare no expense. The club they go into has a ridiculously long line, but when the bouncer sees Lydia make her way to the front, he doesn’t even hesitate to let their group in.

“Lydia just has connections everywhere,” Danny says, his eyes roaming around the entrance.

“Yeah, never underestimate her.” Stiles chuckles.

The club is packed, really. The music is loud and playing some remixed version of a popular song, but there are platforms of people everywhere. Dancing, and obscenely grinding, on one another. But they don’t even have to think about it, because next thing Stiles knows, they’re being let into a VIP area, which is basically an exclusive lounge area on the top level with a free bar and private shows.

He isn’t even shocked, really. This is Lydia Martin, we’re talking about. The one who hated the cheap prom venue so much that she basically convinced Beacon Hills High that they should have it somewhere classier, and somehow got the hotel and ballroom that Kim Kardashian had her first wedding in LA to agree to host a high school prom. The girl literally takes what she wants.

It’s fun, honestly. It’s the first time Stiles doesn’t have to worry about how (or where) he’ll wake up the next morning. They dance on the club floor a little bit, Stiles dragging Danny with him for comfort, but really just to make sure girls don’t try to dance with him. Stiles is pretty open about being gay; it’s one of the reasons he lives somewhere as open as Los Angeles.  
  
He dances with Danny for a while, and he almost forgot how fun he is. Danny’s hands find his waist, and Stiles lets himself drift off, bouncing to the loud club music and with his arms loose around Danny’s neck. Lydia and her friends join them, and soon it’s all of them screaming offbeat to the music and laughing hysterically.  
  
After God knows how long, they make it back to their lounge, ordering drinks (virgin for Allison), and Lydia’s friends exchanging gifts. Someone gets her a tiara and a sash that says “Kiss Me, I’m About to Get Hitched!” that makes Lydia laugh her fucking ass off. She gets things like lingerie and bride-themed gifts from other friends.

She finally gets to Stiles gift, and he has to put a hand over his mouth because he just wants to fucking laugh, and when she opens it, and he sees her face for only a fraction of a second, it’s enough to make him topple over.

Lydia lifts up a box of vibrating underwear, the box showing a red, lacy pair. Her face is absolutely priceless. The group must agree, because everyone erupts into laughter.  
  
Stiles finally musters a breath and wipes at his eyes. “It’s just in case Richard, you know, misses a spot. The most important spot.”  
  
That’s enough to get everyone laughing again, even Lydia, surprisingly.  
  
The rest of the night goes great. They order a few more drinks each, and before they know it, Allison is shushing them.

“Guys, it’s time for the best part!” Allison says excitedly, waving her hand to the bouncer. And just like that, two guys walk up from the stairwell, and all Stiles mind lets him see is _abs_.

Now, Stiles doesn’t get to be around gorgeous men that often. Aside for Derek Hale, the selection has been close to zero in his romantic life. But when you spend as much time with children as he does, you don’t really get much time to go out and date. He has a Grindr, but that never constitutes more than casual talking and the occasional dick pic. He should really delete it, anyway.

So, when there is not one, but two gorgeous men coming in to dance a private show for their group, and because Stiles is just a little drunk, he allows himself to ogle, just this once

The first guy is a tall brunette that can’t be older than twenty-two. But he’s ripped and wearing only black boxer-briefs and a bow tie, so Stiles will deem it okay just this once. The guy makes a beeline for Lydia, earning hollers and catcalls from their group as he basically humps the air in front of her, his junk literally inches from her face.

Stiles finally pulls his eyes away from the first guy to look at the second one, who has now climbed on top of their large ottoman with a pole connected to the ceiling, grasping onto it and slowly taking steps around it. And Stiles feels his breath come short and his heart stop, along with the rest of the fucking world.  
  
Because Derek Hale has his hand on that pole and is staring straight at him.  

Everyone is either too drunk or focused on the man dry-humping Lydia, so they don’t catch the small falter in Derek’s routine. And Stiles can’t fucking help it; he gives him a once over. Derek has the same boxer briefs on, but in white, and has a regular loose tie instead of a bow-tie around his neck. He can’t tell if the shine on his skin is oil or sweat, but just thinking about either is enough to make Stiles grateful that the blaring music covered the sound of his whimpering.

Derek snaps out of whatever daze he’s in, and actually starts up dancing again. Like, legitimately, it was as if he never saw Stiles, because he slaps on that fucking smirk and his eyes skate over the others in the group as he circles the pole slowly, and they all holler when he hooks his leg around it and swings so gracefully around it.

And Stiles is in absolute God forsaken awe that he is actually watching Derek Hale _strip right in front of him._

It goes on for twenty minutes, Stiles transfixed on Derek as he circles the pole, lifting himself up to climb, swing, bend. He’s incredibly flexible, Stiles learns, by the way his back curves, and Stiles has to order another shot of Jager when Derek literally humps the pole.  
  
When the dance is over, Derek and the other boy wave, wads of cash sticking out from their bands of their underwear and the collars of their tie. Stiles catches Derek’s eyes, looking concerned and apologetic and embarrassed all in one as he disappears down the stairwell.

“That was so _hot!”_ Lydia’s old sorority sister Mary Kay hisses, dramatically fanning her face with her hand. “We should go back to the dance floor!”

The group agrees and starts to get up. Danny takes hold of Stiles wrist, trying to lead him.

“I’m going to go take a breather,” Stiles yells over the music as they move to the bottom floor. “Save me a dance?”  
  
Danny just smiles and nods, probably happily buzzed, as he swerves through the crowd back to their group.

 

The air outside is bitterly cold compared to inside, and Stiles can’t remember the last time he sweat so much. But he can’t think about that, because right now he’s on a mission, and that mission is to get some answers.

Maybe it’s the alcohol that clouds his judgement, but for some reason, Stiles thinks it would be a good idea to wait by the back entrance of the club where the performers usually go in and out. He always knew his standing friendship with the drag queens from his old hometown and maneuvering gay clubs would be useful.

Besides, Stiles doesn’t mind waiting. The cool air is nice and calming, sobering him up and clearing his mind aside from the burning image of Derek’s dick bulging in the tight underwear. It was so surreal, and for a split second during the dance, Stiles let himself believe that Derek was doing this for him. Showing his body off, thrusting up in the air, stretching his glorious muscles. It constituted a major hard-on for half of the dance.

He’s starting to wonder if the dancers ever stuff their underwear, or if that’s actually them when the metal door swings open, four or five men walking out. Stiles sees Derek as the last of them, looking ready to straight up leave before he sees Stiles standing there, stopping him in his tracks.  
  
Derek has a pair of jogger sweats on now, and a cotton blue t-shirt that has a stretched neckline. His fist holds a leather jacket, and his thick, dark brows furrow at the the sight of him. God, he looks so cute.

Stiles has his hands in his jacket pocket and offers a small smile, which Derek absolutely does not return.

“Want to take a walk?” Stiles asks, and he knows he must be drunk, because sober Stiles would never in a billion years let those words slip from his mouth.

Derek doesn’t say anything, and grips his jacket tighter. He doesn’t move, so Stiles jerks his head in a random direction and starts walking slowly.

Finally, Derek joins him, walking along next to him with his jacket already on as they move from the alley and onto the busy sidewalk, away from the night club. It’s quiet for a few steps. Neither of them able to find the right words to start. Because, really, Stiles is his kid’s _teacher_. And this strangely, in a way, feels like an invasion of privacy. Like Stiles stumbled in on a part of this guy’s life he really shouldn’t have. But, the world is usually out to get him, so it shouldn't be that far-fetched.

“So, you’re a stripper,” Stiles starts, and he literally wants to punch himself in the face the second it comes out of his mouth because _what the fuck, Stiles_? If Derek wasn’t looking at him before, he sure as hell is now.

There’s a sickeningly long beat of silence.

“I’m sorry.”  
  
And Stiles eyes go wide when he looks at Derek, who honestly looks like he’s in pain.

“What?” he bawks. “For what?”  
  
Derek brings a hand up to scrub at his face, as if to wipe away the frustration.

“You must think I’m a terrible father.”

They are forced to stop walking, because Stiles puts an arm out to stop Derek and turns to look at him.

“Woah, woah, I do _not_ think you’re a terrible father. Have you met any of the other parents your daughter’s friends have? Straight menaces. You are a saint compared to them.”

It seems to ease the tension from Derek shoulders when he says that, but his face stays the same, all moody and grumpy.

“You, my daughter’s teacher, just saw me give you and your friends a pole dance. In a _night club. That I work at_. And you don’t think I’m a shitty dad?”

Stiles feels sorry for the man, really. Because if this was his full time profession, he can only image the shit he’d get while taking care of his daughter. That’s even if he actually openly expresses that to people.  
  
Stiles shrugs. “Listen, to each their own, am I right? I’m not here to judge you on your career choices, especially when you’re one of the nicest parents I’ve ever had to deal with, and have an even more amazing daughter.”  
  
Derek’s eyes gleam a bit, the corners of his mouth tugging up. “You think I’m amazing?” he teases, the smirk in full blossom.  
  
“Oh, shut up. Besides, I can’t judge. I’m a gay, twenty-five year old educator who paid off his whole college tuition by getting paid to dance in gay bars.”  
  
He instantly feels his cheeks warm, because did he actually just fucking say that out loud? Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, keeping his insides warm and fuzzy and apparently his filter off. But he suddenly doesn’t feel guilty when Derek actually beams at him, right there on a dirty sidewalk in downtown LA.

Derek must notice how Stiles shiver at the rush of wind, so he looks down the street, and says, “There’s a Starbucks right there. Do you want to grab a coffee with me? I think you need it,” he says with a chuckle.  
  
“Oh, har har,” Stiles exhausts and sticks his hand out. “Lead the way.”

 

There is absolutely no one in the little coffee shop besides the barista, whose expression changes from exhaustion to looking like she’s just had a shot of espresso as her eyes go wide when Derek walks in first. Stiles gets it. Derek is a walking wet dream, even in lounge-wear. He has incredibly toned arms. His eyes are a deep green that almost looks fake, and his dark hair just seals the package that is a beefcake himself.

Derek orders them two Americanos and moves to a table in the farther back of the shop. If he squinted, this just might look like a date. No, really, if their relationship progressed further than the occasional parent-teacher conferences, then this could be sort of cute.

“So, why stripping, if you don’t mind me asking?” The coffee cup in his grasp is a glorified hand warmer for Stiles at this point.

Derek looks a bit taken back at that, probably because he never gets such hyperactive, unfiltered people asking him such risque questions.

He scratches at his stubble, and Stiles really wants to know what that would feel like on his skin.

“I wasn’t always a stripper. Believe me, this isn’t my dream career path. I was married once, a girl named Kate. She was making a lot of money doing public relations, and I was living off of the inheritance money my parents left me. We met, thought we were in love, and got married. Next thing I knew, she was pregnant.”  
  
Derek starts playing with the stirrer in his cup, and Stiles has to ignore the itch to just take his hand and hold it. “Things were good, for a while. With my savings and her job, we could afford to stay in the city with a child, give her a good life. Then Kate started working more, and I became a permanent stay at home dad. Then she finds out I’m bisexual and flips out and leaves. I haven’t seen her since that day two years ago, and I’ve been taking care of Heather by myself ever since.”

He’s surprisingly calm, Stiles notes. Because if the roles were switched, Stiles likes to think he’d go batshit crazy.

He also tries to not get giddy over the fact that Derek is bisexual.

“Woah. So, it’s just you and your daughter, now?”

He nods. “She was already enrolled in Prairie when Kate left. And God, Stiles, that school is expensive. With just my savings, I wasn’t going to be able to pay for the house, her school, and save for college.”

Stiles nods along. He’s been working there for three years now, and every year they jack up the prices to compensate for the new technology or more established staff. The only reason Stiles even got the job was his Master’s in Speech Development from Stanford.

Oh, and the fact that Allison’s father, Chris, is the dean.

“So.” Stiles waves his hands between them. “Hence the stripping?”  
  
Derek leans back in his chair, stretching his arms behind him, and Stiles takes in the noticeable bulge of his biceps, which is totally unfair.  
  
“I guess I have the body for it. I initially went in to be a bodyguard, but I was persuaded to go into dancing when I saw the income difference. It pays pretty well. “ He shrugs, and then he smirks at Stiles, making him feel sort of vulnerable. “And great tips.”

Stiles' face actually turns beet red, because the very real, very recent memory illuminates his mind of Derek swaying his hips and using his legs to swing from the pole, and Danny stuffing a bunch of dollar bills in Stiles’ hand. Derek’s back was to him, so he thought it would be only appropriate, and maybe only slightly less embarrassing, to hook a finger in the waistband of his underwear, sliding the bills in.

He was _positive_ Derek hadn’t noticed, seeing as he didn’t even flinch at the contact (Stiles had to remind himself that this is a normal scenario for Derek).  
  
“Hey, just helping out a friend!” Stiles says defensively, hoping to cover the red of his face by lifting his cup up to drink from it.

“We’re friends?” Derek asks, eyebrows shooting up.

“Hey man, I’ve seen you basically naked, shaking your ass, and thrusting your dick at me. To call us friends is to say the very least.”

Derek looks absolutely shocked at Stiles, his eyes wide. And Stiles is so glad he’s still a little tipsy, because he’d be freaking the fuck out right now if he wasn’t.

Derek suddenly goes grim, looking down at his cup. “Uh, you’re not going to mention it to anyone at Heather’s school, are you?” His voice a bit shaken, and he looks up. “This is a really good school for her, and I don’t want to mess it up. She loves it there, and she loves you and her friends. I don’t want to screw that up.”

Stiles feels his heart pulled in six different ways for this man. As strange as it is, Derek literally takes on a job he’s not even that keen on just to support his daughter. And now, he doesn’t even care about his good name, he just cares about the outcome for Heather.

He feels his heart grow warm.

“Derek, I would never do that. Like I said, it’s your business. You aren’t hurting anyone, so as far as the school’s concerned, we’ll just continue the rumor that you’re some wealthy European actor.”  
  
“You guys think that about me?” his eyes sparkle.

Stiles can’t help it when he leans forward on the table. resting his chin in his hand. “Oh, us faculty have had a pool going. My money was on celebrity trainer,” he says, a smug grin plastered on.

“Nice to know you all think so highly of me.” Derek adds, a chuckle towards the end.

Stiles doesn’t register how quiet it gets between them, doesn’t think about it when Derek is just sitting across from him smiling with his cute little bunny teeth, his eyes electric. Derek’s a good guy, he’s learned, who will do just about anything for the people he loves.  
  
And sweet Jesus, they are saved from any awkward prolonged eye contact when Stiles phone buzzes audibly, and he slips it out of his pocket.

 

**_Allison: hey, we’re getting ready to go back to lyds. meet out front in 10_ **

 

Stiles frowns a little. He already feels guilty that he left Lydia’s bachelorette party, but he doesn’t want to leave. He almost wishes he could keep them hidden in the corner of the coffee shop forever.  
  
“I should probably head back to my party. It’s my best friend’s bachelorette party, and she’ll never let me live it down if I ditch her.”

“Let’s head back, then. I should go home and check on the nanny, anyway.” Derek sighs, standing up from the table.

It’s a quiet walk back to the club, the busy sounds of the strip getting louder and louder as they chat, mostly Derek asking Stiles about himself. Derek is surprisingly easy to talk to, and he actually listens when Stiles can’t stop himself from the inevitable nervous babbling.

They stand back in front of the club, a retro neon sign illuminating the name “Club Chu” on the brick wall, and it’s the first time Stiles has ever even known the name.

Right as if on cue, Lydia stumbles out of the door, her arm around Allison’s waist and a bright smile on her face. Once upon a time, Stiles was in love with that face. Like full blown, can’t help but follow you around like a puppy in love. But that was years ago. Before he even discovered the beauty that is _men_ . Now, Stiles sees her face and finds himself lucky to have had a friend like her for so long.  
  
Her smiles brightens when she sees Stiles, tiara hanging half off her head, and he can tell that she definitely not sober yet.

“Stiles!” She walks over, impeccable grace for someone in stilettos. She pecks his cheek and squeezes his side in a hug, which he accepts. “I missed you in there. We didn’t get to dance!” she mumbles into his shirt.

He smiles when he looks down at her, running a hand down her back. “Sorry, Lyds, just went for a walk. I’ll stay with you at your place, tonight, okay?”  
  
She beams up at him, and pats her hand on his chest. “You’re the best.” Lydia is about to move away back towards Allison when she stops and gives Derek a once over.

“Nice to see you again, Derek.”

Stiles swear his eyes pop right out of his head, because they look between Lydia and Derek in utter shock. And Derek must be as flabbergasted as him, because he gives him the same look.

“I swear, it’s a lot less creepy than it sounds. Probably,” Stiles tries to save himself, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “She’s a lawyer, I’m not surprised if she knows your entire life story. She has a habit of stalking the people in my life.”  
  
“People in your life,” Derek repeats, and this time his smile is soft and warm, making Stiles’ cheeks grow warm. “I’ll see you you around, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Stiles. My first name is Stiles.” he offers, returning the smile.

Derek grins wide, taking a step backwards. “See you around, Stiles.”

Stiles feels giddy when he lifts his hand to wave, because it doesn’t feel like a goodbye, not at all. More like the opposite.

“Yeah. See ya, Derek.”

* * *

 “Scott, how come all you ever have to drink is apple juice boxes?”

Stiles is hanging out at Scott’s the following Monday afternoon, helping him paint the nursery for the new baby’s room. Since they adopted Jacob in his toddler years, they never had the opportunity to build a nursery, hence the guest room renovation. Allison opted for a yellow and green theme, her words being ‘that she doesn’t want to force any gender normative ideals on her children’.

Stiles was all aboard that train.

Scott came out of the nursery, wiping his hands on his paint chipped jeans.  
  
“I have a kid, and a pregnant wife. I think apple juice runs through my veins instead of blood at this point.” Scott smiles, sitting on a stool across the island.

Stiles pulls out two juice boxes, slides one over to Scott. “I see no fun in your future, Scotty. Maybe a lot of happiness. But no fun.”

Just as he punctures his box with the straw, Jacob and Heather come barreling out of the backyard, squealing and giggling as they run around the island and down the hallway, presumably to Jacob’s room. Stiles offered to bring Heather home after school with Jacob to Scott’s house, so he didn’t get to see Derek after school like he usually does. The two have been playing for hours already, not even stopping to take a break.  
  
“They are so cute,” Scott sighs, looking over at Stiles. “Ten bucks says they’ll get married one day.”  
  
Stiles scoffs. “No chance. What if Jacob is gay? Or bi? Or maybe even ace? The world of sexualities is endless,” he says, pointing his drink to his best friend. “Get that hetero-normative thinking out of your head, Scotty boy.”  
  
Scott outright laughs, his dimples deep along his cheeks, and Stiles can’t help but laugh with him. Seeing as Scott was the one to take Stiles to his first gay club when they were sixteen, when he had suspected his best friend was ready to come out (Scott claims he knew since elementary school, but Stiles calls bullshit), he doesn't suspect he'll be anything but a great dad. 

“Touche, Stiles. At least I’ll know he’ll always have his uncle to keep him informed in just about everything.”  
  
“You know it.”

They’re interrupted by a knock on the door, just as the same time Allison calls Scott from their bedroom. She’s been having some sickness on the fact of she’s carrying a human being, so Scott has her staying in bed.

“You get your wife, I’ll get the door,” Stiles yells, running over to the door. Swinging it open to find none other than Derek Hale standing on the other side.

“Hi,” Derek greets, eyes wide as his eyebrows shoot up.

Stiles feels his face basically mirror Derek’s, and says “Hey.”

They stand there, quiet for a beat, before Stiles realizes how incredibly rude he’s being and moves out of the doorway.

“Come on in.”

Derek’s wearing a dark green shirt, that (gratefully) has a closed neckline, and hugs his body nicely. He has on dark jeans, too, and his hair is a little disheveled.  
  
As if these kids have supersonic hearing, Heather runs through the living room, a wide smile on her face, running into Derek’s legs and wrapping her arms around them.

“Daddy, daddy! Hi! I missed you, but I had so much fun!”  
  
Jacob strolls in then, holding Heather’s backpack in his hand. Stiles has never met such a goddamn cuter kid than him, and he hopes he never does.

Scott walks in right after, his smile bright and welcoming just like his son’s.

“Derek. Hi, I’m Scott. We talked over the phone.” He offers his hand, and Derek takes it, shaking it firmly. Stiles feels like he’s weirdly intruded on some Dad Moment.

“It’s nice to meet you in person.” Derek ruffles his daughter’s hair as she’s still holding onto him. “I hope this one wasn’t too much trouble.”  
  
Jacob jumps a bit and walks over, holding out the backpack for Heather to take. “No, Mr. Hale, it was super fun! I want to hang out with her again!”  
  
“Yeah, Daddy! Me too!” Heather squeaks, bouncing on her toes.

“She was an angel. Don’t worry Derek,” Scott assures him. “She’s welcome over to play with Jacob any time.”  
  
Derek grins and nods his head, and then looks down at Heather. “Say goodnight to your friend, pup. We gotta head out so I can make you dinner.”

Heather says her goodbyes, even thanks Scott for letting her play at his house, and Stiles never thought he could love a kid more, aside from Jacob. She even comes up to Stiles, and he instinctively pulls a move out of his teaching mode and bends down so they’re eye level.

“Mr. Stilinski, are you and my daddy friends now?” she asks, her eyes bright hazel eyes and wide, hopeful. Stiles catches a glance to Derek, who looks utterly taken aback by the way his ears turn pink. He looks back at Heather.

“Yeah, we are.”

“Does that mean me and you can be friends, too? Even though you’re my teacher?” She beams.

“Yes, we most definitely can,” he chuckles. “Even if I’m your teacher.”

Heather’s smile spreads across her entire face, and she throws herself at Stiles, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck.

“Goodnight, Mr Stilinski!”

Derek is already by the open front door, and Heather makes a beeline to it, running to the car.  
  
Stiles can honestly feel Scott’s eyes bore into his back, and he _hates_ him for it.

“I’ll walk you out,” Stiles pipes up, and wonders if that was a bad idea or not. But when Derek smiles at him, he doesn’t feel guilty at all.

 

The sun is just about to set outside, which reminds Stiles that he should probably get home, too. Heather has managed to open the car door and strap herself into the backseat, leaving the two of them on the front porch.

Stiles closes the door behind him. “Look, I’m sorry about the other night,” he starts, hoping to come off as apologetic. “I didn’t mean to push you to tell me things you weren’t comfortable with. That was kind of messed up.”  
  
Shaking his head, Derek offers the most adorable small smile, and Stiles knows this is it. He is a complete goner for Derek Hale.

The man stands straighter, staring right in Stiles eyes. Maybe even into his soul.

“Did you mean what you said, about not caring about me being a… an entertainer?” Derek asks.

Stiles blinks. “Of course, yeah. I don’t care. If anything, it’s kind of cool,” he starts, but he needs to tone that down real quick before he says something about how Derek being a stripper is actually extremely hot to him. In every fucking way possible. It’s precisely the reason Stiles had to fuck his own hand roughly after he’d left the club. He couldn’t get the sight of Derek on that pole out of his head.

“Besides, why do you care about my opinion? I already told you I’m not going to mention it to anyone.”

Derek looks unsure, unfocused for a brief second. Stiles swears he’s seeing things, but did he just flick his eyes down to Stiles’ lips?

“I wanted to know in case I wanted to do something like this,” Derek says. Stiles didn’t have time to even analyze his previous thought before Derek is moving toward him and has his hand on the side of Stiles’ face and- _Oh God, are his lips attached to mine?_

If there was one thing Stiles has always fantasized about, it was what it would be like to kiss Derek Hale. It’s something every human being probably fantasizes about if they ever came in contact with this man. The thing is, he’s been thinking about it ever since Derek waltzed into his life. When Stiles first started teaching at Prairie,and Derek had enrolled Heather for kindergarten. Everyday for three years, he came outside to lead his class so they could go home and would see Derek, leaning against his Camaro, waiting for his daughter.

He thought about it constantly until he saw the name Hale on his roster, and watched Derek enter his class at the beginning of the year for Open House night, a Meet The Teacher event the school holds every year. He introduced himself to Stiles with Heather in tow, and Stiles knew any fantasies he had needed to end. This was his student’s father, not just a mysterious man he could ogle.

Now, on his best friend’s front porch, Derek Hale is pressing his lips to Stiles in a searing kiss. All Stiles is really focused on is the fact that he is actually kissing Derek Hale, before he realizes he’s just holding his hands up like a damn fool. Then Derek fucking places his other hand on the small of Stiles’ back, and Stiles’ entire mind just goes ‘fuck it’, and he moves his lips, returning the kiss.

Derek tastes like peppermint and sugar, and Stiles finally learns what Derek’s beard on his skin feels like. It’s ticklish, but very much welcomed. Stiles’ hands move to clutch at Derek’s shirt, moving his head to get a better angle of Derek’s mouth.

The kiss is pretty PG, and only lasts for a couple of seconds. Stiles really doesn’t need to be the one to scar Derek’s daughter. He pulls away, unfortunately, but close enough so that he can still feel the puff of Derek’s breathe on his face, their noses dragging.

“Do you kiss all your daughter’s teachers like that,” he says low, wishing they had the privacy to do this again, because Stiles would _very much_ like to kiss him again.

Derek smiles, and Stiles wonders how many different ways, different places, and time of the day he can see that smile.

“Only the cute ones with glasses and weird names.”  
  
Stiles steps back, but Derek’s hand doesn’t move from his back. He has a faux expression of outrage when he hits Derek’s chest.  
  
“Screw you, it’s not weird. It’s just a name. My name.”

Derek’s smile doesn’t falter, and Stiles practically melts in his arms.  
  
“See you tomorrow?” he asks, his voice hopeful.

The ways he looks at Stiles with bright eyes, and how his thumb rubs at Stiles back is surreal. This is his life. The hot, wealthy, nice guy actually likes the pale, dorky, spastic guy on a teacher’s salary. But right here, with the sun giving the sky a pink and orange glow, and his fingers playing with the bottom of Derek’s shirt, he feels like he’s sixteen again. Excited and hopeful.

“You know where to find me.”

* * *

 It’s been a whole month since that night, the first night where Derek kissed Stiles. A month of trying to keep whatever it was that they were doing casual in hopes of not leading any of the staff on. Texting, getting coffee or dinner before Derek goes to work, movie nights with Heather at Derek’s, or lunch dates at Scott’s. It’s light, and it’s really all Stiles can manage with his job right now.

But today is different than any other day. And not just because it’s the last day of school before winter break, and Stiles can look forward to an entire month of rest and relaxation. As much as he loves his students, they are _exhausting._

Today is different because instead of having to drive Jacob home after school lets out, Derek had texted Stiles asking to hold both Heather and Jacob for a little bit longer. He’d pick them all up after school so he can drop the kids at Scott’s, leaving Derek and Stiles to some much deserved free time.

Stiles cleans up his classroom, leaving Heather and Jacob, newlyfound best friends, to play on the school playground while he does. He’s just gotten all the art supplies back in their respective cubby bins when he hears a knock at his door.

“Hey, there,” Derek greets, leaning against the door frame, looking hot as fuck if Stiles says so himself.

He’s wearing the leather jacket that Stiles loves, with the broad shoulders, and the grin plastered on his face has Stiles’ heart skipping beats.

“Hello Mr. Handsome,” Stiles draws out, moving away from the shelf. Derek meets him halfway, and Stiles can’t help snaking his arms around Derek’s waist, holding him close enough to feel the warmth from his body. Derek must get the same idea, because his hands fall on Stiles’ arms, slowly rubbing up and down them, and Stiles sort of wishes he could be held like this by Derek until the end of time.

“Where are the kids?” he asks, eyes scanning the empty classroom.

“Outside,” Stiles says. “Apparently, cleaning up isn’t something you ask two second graders to do unless you want an even bigger mess to happen.”

“Hey, look at the bright side,” Derek says, moving impossibly closer to Stiles. “After today, you won’t have to deal with this for a whole month.”  
  
Stiles snorts. “I will whenever I stay at your place. Need I remind you your daughter is one half of the reason I’m in here right now?”

He half expects Derek to roll his eyes, or push him away even, but instead he find green eyes staring back at him, practically sparkling.  
  
“What?” he edges, squeezing Derek’s side softly.

“You plan on staying over a lot?” Derek lifts an eyebrow, almost testing, teasing.

“Are you kidding me? We are literally given a gift. The gift of sex, my friend. I can actually stay late at your place and be there when you get off work any day I want, all sweaty and hot.” Stiles is giddy with excitement, because as much as he loves hanging out with Derek, and the dating, and kissing, they couldn’t pull off more than a few quick handjobs because of their opposite schedules. So, to say Stiles is excited about sex, even more so, sex with Derek, is an understatement.

Stiles voice gets lower as he leans closer to Derek, their faces just centimeters apart. “Maybe then you can finally strip for me.”

He wishes he got to see the way Derek’s pupils dilate every time he takes a risk like that, whispering risque things at the most inappropriate times, leaning in close, breath tickling the ear. But he doesn’t get the chance this time, because Derek is already pressing in for their lips to meet.

The kiss shoots sparks down Stiles spine, forcing him to latch on with everything he has, everything he can give. It’s sweet, and deep, and when Derek’s tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, and Stiles lets out a muffled moan, fingers gripping his boyfriend’s sides, he knows it’s worth it. Derek is worth it. Derek is worth every hitched breath, every brush of lip, and every touch of skin.

He’s not sure when Derek’s hands find his hair, but he’s hyper-aware of it when they pull apart, Derek’s rough hands tugging at the small hairs at the nape of his neck. Stiles opens his eyes, his heart fluttering at the sight of Derek; rosy cheeks and pink, spit-slick and kiss-swollen lips. He wishes he could always open his eyes and see that view. That beautiful, amazing view.

And, Stiles realizes that he can. He has a whole month of figuring this out, figuring Derek out. Like what makes him laugh. What makes him cry. What makes him such a good father. Such a good person. And after that, they have however long to figure themselves out, together, and what it means to be Derek and Stiles. And Derek, Stiles, and Heather.

Because Stiles already knows he wants this. He wants it so bad that it’s the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up. The first thing he thinks of when Heather hugs him in the mornings before class. He can’t be sure yet about forever, but he’s confident about right now.  
  
“We should get the kids,” Derek breaks the silence. “We don’t want to be late for our first official date night.”

“First?” Stiles chides, moving away from Derek to get his papers and bag from his desk. “We’ve had plenty of dates.”  
  
“You count meeting up at Starbucks and watching children’s movies with Heather as dates?” Derek asks, crossing his arms as he moves towards the door, tangent to Stiles.

Stiles shrugs, lifting the strap to his messenger bag over his shoulder. “I think any time I get to spend with you is a perfectly great date.”

Derek’s face lights up, surprised for a second, and then his smile is warm and bright, the kind that gives Stiles goosebumps throughout his whole body.

Derek moves to take Stiles’ hand in his, entwining their fingers together, and pulls the younger man to him so he can press his lips to Stiles’ temple.

“I think so, too.” Derek says.


	2. Epilogue

Stiles use to never see himself as the domestic type.

Sure, he’s a teacher, so he works with children on a daily basis, but that’s his career. It’s very different from how he portrays his personal life. He always imagined being the guy who was a bachelor until his late forties, maybe owning a motorcycle if he ever got over the fear of learning to ride one. Become the Dean of Prairie, maybe

But all of that changed when Derek Hale came into his life.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves Derek (yes, they’re at that part of their relationship) with every fiber of his being, and he wouldn’t trade Heather for the world. It’s just a very different picture of what he thought he wanted in life.

For instance, Stiles never thought he’d be the guy who’d want to stay in on a Saturday night, on his couch, watching Cutthroat Kitchen. But, right now, that’s exactly what he wants.

Derek’s curled up with him on the couch at his house, laid out on the sofa, Stiles’ hand carding through Derek’s hair as the older man lies on top of him, head pillowed in Derek’s chest.

“I don’t know why that guy dished half of his cash just to get the exclusive right to utensils. Anyone can make a knife using the blender blade, duh.”

Derek chuckles, and Stiles can feel it. He looks down at his boyfriend, who still has his eyes on the television.

“Something funny?” he teases.

 He catches a glimpse of Derek’s small smile. “It’s a pride thing. These people are willing to spend all their money to win the game, even if it means taking home no money.”

And Stiles can’t argue with that, so he just leans his head down a bit to plant a kiss on the top of Derek’s hair, and continues watching the show.

This is almost an every night occurrence since Stiles moved in. Actually, more like since they started dating a year ago. Just about everything about Stiles’ life has taken a huge one-eighty. He spends any time he’s not at school watching Heather while Derek’s at work, taking walks, going to the park, making dinner together. And Derek comes home in time to tuck her into bed and read her a story, and then they just relax together. And it’s peaceful and blissful and it may not be incredibly exciting, but it’s perfect for them.

The episode ends, and Derek yawns as he sits up. It’s well past one in the morning, so it’s pretty expected.

“Bed?” Derek asks, sleep already overcoming him as he adorably rubs his eyes (seriously, puppy Derek will be the death of him).

Stiles groans as he sits up. “Yes, please.”

He remembers the first day he moved in four months ago, and how nervous he was to sleep in Derek’s bed. Sure, he’d slept _in_ Derek’s bed before, but it was always _Derek’s_ bed. It wasn’t Derek and Stiles’ bed.

Stiles must have spent an hour pacing the living room just trying to figure out how to ask which side Derek sleeps on.

( _“It doesn’t matter, Stiles. Sleep on whatever side you want.” “But you have a side, everyone has a side. I don’t want to mess up your flow!” “Stiles, please just get into bed, God.”)_

He was nervous, okay? A part of him always questioned why Derek would chose him. He was tall, gorgeous, and incredibly fit, and Stiles was really none of those things. And despite Derek’s constant attempts at reassurance and comfort, Stiles still can’t help but wonder if Derek settled.

Derek leads him by the hand as they pad into their bedroom and fall in their quiet, comfortable routine to get ready for bed. They brush their teeth next to each other, playful winks and bumping of shoulders as usual. Derek takes a shower while Stiles changes and checks to make sure all the doors are locked in the house. By the time he comes back into the room, Derek’s sitting on his side of the bed, shirtless and rocking sweatpants, and Stiles' heart swoons for the way his hair is sticking to his forehead and the dopey, tired smile on his face.

These kind of moments don’t make him question anything.

“Any plans tomorrow?” Stiles asks as their climbing into bed. As if on cue, Derek immediately pulls Stiles into him as he lays on his back, letting Stiles curl up on his chest and tangle their legs together.

“I might take Heather out for the day. I feel like I haven’t gotten to spend a lot of time with her lately.” he sighs.

Stiles looks up, and even though Derek’s eyes are closed, he knows he’s still awake.

“What about you, wanna come with us?”

“Nah, think I’m going to get some grading done before break. It’ll be nice for just you and Heather to get some time alone.”

Derek sighs in agreement. It’s quiet for a couple minutes.

Stiles knows what he’s afraid of. He’s afraid that he doesn’t fit in. He loves Derek and Heather, but he forgets it used to just be Derek and Heather way before he came into the picture. And he never wants to be the one that comes between them.

Derek takes shifts at clubs almost every night to make enough money to keep Heather in school, so he never really gets to spend time with her other than the weekends. And even then, with Heather’s dance lessons and other playdates, it gets to be a lot to burden on one person’s shoulder. And with as much time he’s spending with Heather, it’s time he wishes her actual father could be there.

But as much as Stiles doesn’t want to get in the way; he very much wants to be all the way in. Like, all up in there. Despite his previous idea, he can’t imagine a life anymore without Derek and Heather in the picture. All the vacations, the adventures, the stress, the holidays. Everything this past year has been new and exciting because of them.

“Hey, Derek?” Stiles muses, propping his chin up on his chest. Derek’s eyes are close, but his breathing is even.

“Hmm?”

“You wanna get married?”

Derek’s hand, which was previously stroking where it was resting on Stiles’ side, goes still. Stiles can feel his heartbeat racing from where his face is pressed, and it kind of makes him really fucking nervous.

“You, uh, you, and me- what?”

Well, he started this, he might get on with the goddamn show.

He sits up from the bed, moving so he can straddle his boyfriend’s hips, and when he looks at Derek, his eyes are wide and he doesn’t seem to be breathing.

“You know,” Stiles gestures spacingly with his hands. “Holy matrimony, ‘till death do us part’, yadda, yadda.”

Derek blinks. “Why the sudden thought?” Derek asks lowly, and he must have noticed Stiles practically shaking because he rests his hand on top of his.

He shrugs. “Would you believe me if I told you it’s not really sudden?” From the look on Derek’s face, he wants an elaboration. “I just, you know I love you Der, so much. And I love that little rascal probably more than myself. And it’s been this constant whistle in my head that imagines us together, raising Heather, doing fucking taxes together or something, I don’t know!” he explains, flustered that he forgot what he was initially talking about.

He ignores Derek’s wide, unblinking eyes, and continues, pressing his hands to Derek’s chest. “Derek, you are an _amazing_ father. I watch you, everyday, and I see how much you care about the people you love, what you will do for them, for Heather. And you let me be one of those people, and God, do I love you for that. I love you so much.” He can’t seem to make eye contact anymore, and fixes his eyes on his hands, where Derek has tightened his grasp on Stiles’ wrists.

“I want to be apart of that, forever, or for as long as you’ll let me. I want to be the one that will look out and care for you unconditionally, and take care of you. Fuck, Derek, I want to marry you. And if you’re not ready for that, or if think I’m overstepping and trying to come between you and Heat-"

He would have loved to finish that soliloquy, really, but Derek had pulled on his hands, and let go to take Stiles’ face in his, and pulling him down for a kiss

It feels urgent; like Derek has no more time to convey all he wants into words, so he tries with a kiss. And it’s fierce and aching and it’s the kind that forms knots in Stiles’ stomach, as if it means so much more than it is.

They part after a minute or two, and Stiles leans in again, dumbfounded when he opens his eyes and Derek is moving to get up.

“Are you leaving in the middle of my proposal?”

Derek ignores him, and leans over the bed to reach for the bedside table, pulling out the drawer.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asks, urgent.

He pulls out a black velvet box.

“Fucking shit, _what the fuck is that_ , Derek?” Stiles groans, more than inquires. Because he knows damn well what it is, and what’s inside of it, and he’s not crying, _he’s not_.

Derek settles back against the pillow, Stiles still sitting on his lip, and he holds up the box between them, and opens it.

“Guess you beat me to it.”

Inside there’s a silver band with a black stripe that runs all around it.

Stiles blinks back the tears welling up in his eyes. “You- you were going to propose?” he asks, quietly.

Derek nods. “Of course I was.” Derek drops the box on the side of the bed in place of running his hands up and down Stiles’ thighs. “Stiles. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone. And there is no one I would rather have to help raise my baby girl. You’ve been teaching her way before I knew. So, don’t ever think you would be getting in the way, or ruining our family. _You_ are our family.”

Stiles is quiet for a moment, processing how he could ever deserve someone as beautiful as Derek Hale.

“I am a good teacher, aren’t I?” he says, sniffing through his nose, a watery laugh following.

Derek grabs hold of his waist and wrestles them so Stiles is on his back and he’s towering over him, framing his face with his arms, both laughing in the process.

“The best.”

They kiss, and it’s so wholesome and sweet, Stiles feels like he’s just about to burst. Derek’s lips move slowly against his, and Stiles feels his arms inevitably snake around Derek’s neck, pulling him in closer.

They make-out, slow and languid, for a few minutes until Stiles pulls away this time, remembering what the start of this whole ordeal even was.

“Does this mean you’ll marry me?” he asks, looking up at Derek with wide eyes.

He’ll never forget Derek’s face in that moment (he even writes about it in his vows); how he smiled with his whole face. Eyes shimmering green, like emeralds, and how his grin takes up his whole face, making him look years younger, and Stiles knew the answer before he even says it. Or, maybe he always knew it.

“Every day, for the rest of our lives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't let the story end there.
> 
> *another epilogue might be in the works idk idk idk i love this story ugh*

**Author's Note:**

> i'm [braedens](http://braedens.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and i write stuff


End file.
